


Tramps Like Us

by InTheWind



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Save Benson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheWind/pseuds/InTheWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While packing up their old apartment in order to get a new start with her son, Olivia comes across something of Brian's and starts reflecting on the course of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue—Atlantic City

_Well our luck may have died and our love may be cold_   
_but with you forever I'll stay._   
_We're going out west where sands turn into gold._   
_Now put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold._

 

“Oh, are you helping Mommy pack? Thank you!”

Olivia cooed patiently at her sixteen-month-old, whose idea of “helping” involved throwing his own toys at whatever box she was trying to fill and laughing uproariously whenever one of them actually made it in. She smiled indulgently, removed the offending object—this time, a small stuffed octopus—and handed it back to Noah before resuming the task of packing up her extensive CD collection.

It was a mindless job, and she wasn't paying any particular attention to which albums were going where until one caught her eye: sitting on the shelf was Springsteen's greatest hits, a collection she was sure she hadn't purchased herself.

It was Brian's, of course. His obsession with The Boss was something she'd found endearing in better times and exasperating in worse ones. When they'd moved in together they'd arranged their CDs alphabetically, mixing his and hers with impunity as they laughed at themselves for still using what the kids these days pejoratively called “physical media.” She'd given him ample time to take what was his when he moved out, but clearly he hadn't gotten everything. It was the first time in months she'd run across something belonging to him, and as always, she felt the sharp sting of regret.

Noah, meanwhile, was simply feeling irritated; his mother's attention was focused raptly on something other than him, and this was unacceptable. He let out a squeal as he reached for the object, as if demanding to know what had her so captivated.

“What do you think, baby?” she asked, hoisting him onto one hip as she turned the CD case over in her other hand. “What should we do with this?”

It wasn't typically a hard question; Olivia and her ex were still on good enough terms to simply ask if he wanted it back. She'd done exactly that when she'd learned that a two-bedroom apartment was opening up in her building and had to decide what to do with her current lease. She'd called Brian as a courtesy to offer him first dibs on the place, at which point she'd learned that (a) he was perfectly happy being back in his old neighborhood and (b) he was going undercover and would probably be unreachable for weeks. So much for calling him now.

She supposed she could drop it off at his place—he'd given her a key just in case she ever needed anything, still wanting to look after her even though it was over between them—but the idea of just wordlessly leaving it for him to find didn't feel right, not after everything he'd done for her. Packing it up and dealing with it later seemed like the only other available option, but she didn't want it to get mixed in with her things and forgotten again. And Noah was still reaching for it.

“Okay,” she said to her son. “You want some music while we pack?”

Noah babbled happily, so she took this as a yes and popped the disc into her stereo. Before she knew it, and much to her baby's delight, she found herself humming along.

Perhaps The Boss had grown on her after all.

 

_Everything dies, baby, that's a fact_   
_but maybe everything that dies someday comes back._   
_So put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty_   
_and meet me tonight in Atlantic City._


	2. Part I—Human Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sleeping together during the Ganzel/Wilson investigation, Brian and Olivia explore the reignited spark between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers (very minor in most cases) for season 14 episodes Lost Reputation, Above Suspicion, Presumed Guilty, and Undercover Blue.

_Ain't no mercy on the streets of this town._   
_Ain't no bread from heavenly skies._   
_Ain't nobody drawing wine from this blood._   
_It's just you and me tonight._

 

“Nice place.”

Olivia had never seen his apartment before, but she strolled in like she belonged there all the same. Brian hobbled in after her, shutting the door with his good arm as she looked around approvingly.

They were both a little nervous and trying not to show it. Olivia's attentive bedside manner had caught both of them by surprise; it had been one thing to fall back into bed together in the midst of a trying case, but the thought of pursuing anything beyond that was where they both got a little lost. Still, when she offered to give him a ride home upon his discharge from the hospital Brian gladly took her up on it, eager to see her again. Now he looked around his apartment, wondering how it compared in her eyes to the cramped and dirty flat he'd brought her to a dozen years ago. Wondering how _he_ compared to the cocky, green kid he'd been back then.

It was a strange situation, certainly. Over the past few weeks they'd learned just enough about each other to know that whatever they were doing was a bad idea—she'd recently ended a relationship with an EADA who'd resigned in disgrace following their investigation; he'd been sleeping with the prostitute whose death was at the center of the plot to frame Cragen. They both lived for the job, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. Still, here they were.

“You want something to drink?” he offered, glancing toward the kitchen as he tried to remember if there was actually anything there. Three years of undercover work and many more as a bachelor meant that he was somewhat lacking in the hospitality department.

“Maybe I should be the one asking you,” she said, gesturing to his sling.

He grinned and took a step toward her. “And here I thought I was just getting a ride home. You gonna nurse me back to health too?”

“I don't know,” she teased. “I hear cops make terrible patients.”

“You think I can't behave?”

“Who says I want you to?” She walked toward him now, moving forward until they stood just inches apart. This time he initiated the kiss, using his good arm to pull her closer. She responded by gingerly wrapping her arms around his neck, careful not to hurt him.

“Listen,” he said, so softly that she might not have noticed he was speaking if not for the hot puffs of air gliding across her mouth. “About Carissa, I just want you to know that—”

“Stop,” she said. “Don't go there, okay? She meant something to you and I'm sorry she's gone, but I don't need to hear the details. I just need to know you're here with me now.”

“I'm here,” he affirmed, punctuating the sentence with another deep kiss.

When he started guiding her toward the bedroom, she pulled away. “We shouldn't. _You_ shouldn't. Brian, you just got discharged an hour ago!”

He let out a dry laugh, though his face remained serious as he held onto her, curling the ends of her hair around his fingers absently. “Yeah,” he said pensively. “I guess our timing's always sucked, huh?”

Olivia said nothing. She rested her head flat against his chest, breathing in to the sound of his heartbeat. “Yeah, it has,” she finally said, “But we'll make up for it. Eventually.”

 

_Oh girl, that feeling of safety you prize_   
_well, it comes with a hard, hard price._   
_You can't shut off the risk and the pain_   
_without losing the love that remains._

 

Sun and sand weren't exactly Olivia's idea of Christmas, but as she lay on the beach sipping mojitos instead of eggnog she had to admit it was the best one she'd had in years. It helped that, for the first time in years, she wasn't alone.

“You don't know what you're missing!” Brian called out as he emerged from the ocean, water dripping off his body in slick pools. “You comin' in?”

Olivia smiled, looking up from her book as he walked toward her. “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. He was standing so close now that his shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. His newly-acquired tan only emphasized the scars on his chest, reminders of how close she'd come to losing him before she'd even known exactly what there was to lose. That case had cost him his rank and his reputation, but it had nearly cost both of them so much more. She tried to push the thought from her mind as he continued speaking, oblivious. “Well, we could sit here and admire the view... or we could go back to the hotel and admire... other views.”

This suggestion was accompanied with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle so comical that they both laughed out loud.

“I see you've finally mastered the art of subtlety,” she teased, but she set her book aside. “I'm shocked.”

“Oh, I'm full of surprises.”

“Yeah?” She reached out for his hand, using him as an anchor as she pulled herself up. She thanked him with a kiss, then leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Maybe you should surprise me, then.”

Brian grinned. She started walking back toward the hotel, but felt his hands around her waist, pulling her back. Before she realized what was happening, he had lifted her into his arms and taken off toward the shoreline. Her shock quickly gave way to joy as he ran into the water; she clung to him as the waves splashed up around her, laughing until her sides ached and feeling freer than she had in years. In that moment they weren't a pair of middle-aged cops who'd seen too much and lived too little; to all the world they looked just like a happy couple making a fresh go of things together. In that moment, Olivia allowed herself to believe for the first time that that's exactly what they were.

“So have I managed to surprise you?” he asked later, when they were lying in their hotel room languid and spent.

She smiled and planted a kiss on his chest, circling the scars with her tongue as if making some sort of peace with them and all they represented. When she was finished she worked her way up to his lips before answering: “More than you know.”

 

_So you've been broken and you've been hurt._   
_Well show me somebody who ain't._   
_Yeah, I know, I ain't nobody's bargain_   
_but hell, a little touch-up and a little paint..._

 

“You wanna go get a drink somewhere and not talk about it?”

Seconds ago he'd been on the verge of ending whatever it was they had between them. The thought had hurt far more than she'd expected it to, and she wasn't sure she was ready to think about what that meant. Not talking about it seemed like a solid plan, so she agreed, surprised and heartened when she felt him reach for her hand at the bottom of the courthouse steps.

They wound up at a bar near his place—not a cop bar, not the kind of dive he frequented during his undercover days, just an out-of-the-way hole in the wall where they could not talk about it without the risk of running into anyone they knew. After a couple of beers Brian had her cracking up with stories about the idiot skels he'd played as a UC, and Olivia in turn regaled him with tales of his ex-partner's misadventures through the years. By the time they left, tipsy and laughing after several hours, it felt like every other date they'd ever had.

Except that in the back of Olivia's mind, his accusation still played like a skipping record: “Once accused, always under suspicion. Even from you.”

It still haunted her as she lay in bed that night, listening to his slow, rhythmic breaths. She thought about waking him up to tell him again that she believed him, had always believed him, and asking him to believe her in return—but something held her back. She couldn't bring herself to lie.

She told herself it hadn't meant anything, really, that knot she'd had in her stomach from the moment the manufactured evidence against her boyfriend had come to light. She'd been an SVU detective for 15 years and false accusations were almost unheard of; _of course_ there had been some part of her that may have found Heather's story credible. What mattered now was that the truth was out, and she was still beside him. Everything else was over.

Olivia inched herself closer to his sleeping form, holding her breath as if that could prevent him from waking up while she lay her head on his shoulder. He didn't stir, and she breathed him in, deciding he'd been right all along. They didn't need to talk about it.

They never needed to talk about it.

 

_You might need something to hold onto_   
_when all the answers, they don't amount to much._   
_Somebody that you can just talk to_   
_and a little of that human touch._


	3. Part II—Dancing in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Olivia escapes from Lewis, Brian is at a loss when it comes to helping her deal with her assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with the aftermath of the #SaveBenson storyline. Spoilers for "Surrender Benson" through "Psycho/Therapist".

_I get up in the evening_   
_and I ain't got nothing to say._   
_I come home in the morning._   
_I go to bed feeling the same way._

 

Brian was not a religious man, but for two days he bargained and pleaded with every deity he could think of and a few he'd made up on the spot for good measure. He swore up and down he'd go to church every Sunday and be the best damn uni the Bronx County Courthouse had ever seen and give Olivia everything in this world and more if only, dear God if only she lived.

His prayers were answered in the form of Munch's hand on his shoulder and the most beautiful three words he'd ever heard in his life: “They found her.” But he soon came to realize that he should have been praying for so much more.

It finally started to hit him, what she'd been through, when she emerged from his bathroom that first night with her hair hacked short and uneven. Words failed him; he failed her. By the time he opened his mouth to speak, she'd regained enough of her composure to glare at him and say flatly, “Don't.”

He was grateful for the rebuke. He hadn't known what he was going to say anyway.

Relieved and hating himself for it, he grabbed a pillow off the bed and stepped awkwardly around her. “I, um, I just...” he stammered. “I should take the couch tonight.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went dark for a second before sliding closed. Her voice was small and distant. “Okay. If you want to.”

He quickly realized his mistake and tossed the pillow back on the bed. “Hey,” he said gently. Cautiously, he reached out to place a hand on her uninjured arm. “All I want is to make this easier on you, okay? Maybe I'm not so good at that, but if you can tell me what you need right now, I'll do it. Anything.”

Her eyes opened and she surprised them both by answering honestly. “I need you here. Please. I don't want to be alone.”

“Then I'm not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she whispered almost inaudibly as she pulled away, effectively ending the discussion. She climbed into bed, settling in slowly; it struck him how easily he'd started thinking of that as _her side_ of the bed, how empty it had seemed for a while now on the rare nights when she slept elsewhere and he wasn't with her. How empty it would have seemed, if...

She was watching him. He had to force himself to stop thinking like that. She was here, in front of him. Alive. “They gave you something for the pain, right? Do you want me to get it for you?”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “No drugs. I can't...”

“Can't what?” he prompted, although he already knew that Lewis had kept her drugged and drunk for nearly every waking moment. He'd been with her in the hospital and again in Cragen's office, listening to her mechanically recount what had happened over the past four days over and over until it sounded like it had happened to someone else, but this was the closest she'd come to actually telling _him_ about it.

She realized it, too, and shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind. I, um, don't need them. But thanks.”

He didn't call her on the lie, even though the medication she'd been given at the hospital had worn off hours ago and she was clearly in pain. Instead he slid into bed next to her, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and turned out the light.

Neither of them slept.

 

_I ain't nothing but tired._   
_Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself._   
_Hey there, baby,_   
_I could use just a little help._

 

Olivia had been in therapy before.

She'd been assaulted before. And she'd recovered, and she'd credited that recovery to the help she'd received when she finally found the strength to seek it. She'd preached the benefits of counseling to every survivor whose case she'd ever worked. She'd recommended this therapist in particular to a lot of them.

Still, when it came time for that first appointment, the last thing she wanted to do in the world was go.

“Hey, babe?”

Brian's voice was the first thing to break through the fog that morning, that hazy, half-asleep state she'd been in ever since her escape. She opened her eyes to see his hunched figure standing tentatively over her side of the bed. He looked like a scared animal ready to turn tail and run if she made one false move; she hated how easily they both startled lately. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Your appointment's today,” he reminded her. “I thought maybe we could get breakfast first, and I'll go with you, you know, wait in the lobby? We'd have to leave soon, though. It's already after 10.”

He waited a beat, wondering if this time he'd get an answer. When none came, he gave up and retreated to the living room. Only then did Olivia open her eyes again.

She didn't want to go. More than that, she didn't want him coming with her. It had been three days since they'd returned to his apartment, and neither of them had left it since. It seemed to Olivia that they'd spent all that time drifing; drifting in and out of consciousness, drifting around and past each other. Neither of them saying anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. She'd meant it when she'd said that she didn't want to be alone, but keeping herself together for his benefit was exhausting.

She hadn't said anything about what had happened over the four days when she'd been alone with Lewis. He hadn't asked, and she was grateful for that. She'd gotten through giving her statement by sticking to cold facts—by speaking as an officer of the law rather than the victim of a crime. It had worked, insofar as she hadn't completely broken down yet. She'd been teetering on the edge that first night in the moment when she cut her hair, but that one act had somehow helped her to regain the control that had kept her going ever since. Part of her feared that if she talked about it— _really_ talked about it—she'd fall straight down the rabbit hole and never claw her way out.

A bigger part of her feared that if she talked about it in front of him, he'd never look at her the same way again.

And so she dragged her feet that morning, pulling herself out of bed with what felt like monumental effort. She took her time in the shower, scrubbing every inch of her skin raw as had become her ritual. It never helped. It still didn't. But it bought her time, until Brian was tapping at the bathroom door and timidly informing her that they wouldn't be able to stop for breakfast after all. With that minor victory, she shut off the water and reluctantly prepared for the day.

Dr. Lindstrom's waiting room was small and homey, painted a shade of sea green that Olivia assumed was supposed to be calming. Brian sat next to her on the stiff couch, his knee bouncing in and out of her field of vision. She thought about asking him to take a walk. She thought about asking him to take her hand. She thought about asking him to take her home and forget the whole damn thing. Before she could make up her mind, she heard someone call her name. It was time.

 

_Man, I ain't getting nowhere._   
_I'm just living in a dump like this._   
_There's something happening somewhere,_   
_baby, I just know there is._

 

“So I was thinking I might swing by my place tomorrow, you know, grab some stuff.”

She dropped the bombshell halfway through dinner, trying desperately to feel as relaxed as she hoped she sounded. Her eyes gave her away; they were fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.

Brian nearly choked on his rigatoni. “You, uh... okay. We can do that. Molina owes me a favor; I should be able to get out early, and—”

“Oh, that's alright. You don't have to come if it's gonna be a problem.”

She was testing him and herself, and they both knew it. It was something her shrink had been calling her on recently, this need she had to constantly reassure herself that she could handle anything on her own. She had handled Lewis on her own. Wasn't that enough?

“Hey.” He reached across the small card table that served as his dining room to take her hand, running his thumb along the lines in her palm. “I'm right here, Liv. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to do this alone.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile as they both resumed pushing the food around on their plates. “Thanks, Bri.”

Neither of them had much of an appetite left.

“So... what made you decide to go back?” he asked after a while. “Now, I mean.”

Olivia shrugged. “Have to eventually, I guess. It's been two months. All my stuff's there, and I'm paying rent on a place I haven't been able to set foot in, and... it's just time.”

Brian accepted that. “Okay,” he said. “Well, we can take it slow, you know? Just stop by for a while, get a couple things. You don't have to move back in all in one day.”

She knew he had a point, but still Olivia couldn't contain the sigh that escaped her lips. _It had been two months._ Two months away from the job, away from her apartment, away from her life. She'd had enough.

Everything was moving too damn slow.

Walking back into her apartment for the first time the next afternoon, she was struck by how unfamiliar it felt. It was as if someone else had been turning that key in that lock for years, someone she barely knew and couldn't quite remember. Looking past the mess and destruction, she realized that she couldn't conjure one happy memory of living in this place. All she could remember was the Beast.

After therapy that evening, she came back to Brian's place to find him staring mindlessly at some game on TV, trying to look like he wasn't waiting for her. She curled up against him on the couch; he hesitated slightly before putting his arms around her. Neither of them were ever sure anymore how she'd react to physical affection, but this time it seemed right. She almost felt normal.

“I'm gonna start looking for a new place tomorrow,” she told him.

He nodded, unsurprised. “You know you can always stay here, Liv.”

She looked around and laughed. “Bri, we've been tripping over each other for weeks. I am so, so grateful for everything you've done for me, but this place isn't big enough for two people. Especially when I go back to work and we both have to get out in the morning.”

“Back to work?” Now _this_ was news. “How long have you been thinking about that?”

“I don't know,” she admitted with a sigh. “It came up in therapy today.”

“That's great, Liv.”

She twisted herself around to look at him, expecting some hint of insincerity, but found none. Uneasily, she sank back down against him.

“Thank you for not asking if I'm ready,” she said finally.

“I'd like to think you wouldn't go back if you weren't,” he replied, rubbing her back. “But I know you better than that.”

She glared at him but couldn't argue.

“You're capable of making your own choices, Liv,” he continued. “If this is what you want, go for it. I'll back your play. Just... if you change your mind, or it gets to be too much, tell me, okay? I don't want you going through this alone.”

She didn't want that, either. She just didn't know how not to.

 

_You sit around getting older._   
_There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me._   
_I'll shake this world off my shoulders._   
_Come on, baby, the laugh's on me._

 

“It's gotta be a joke, right? Not even he's this crazy. Who the hell would plead guilty to a crime they're not even charged with rather than go to trial over a lesser offense?”

“I don't know, babe.” Brian was trying very hard not to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Watching her pace around their apartment did nothing to quell the nausea that had plagued him from the moment she'd called that afternoon, breathless and angry, to tell him that Lewis wanted to plead guilty to rape for what he'd done to her.

He'd heard her tell the other cops over and over that it had never gone that far. He wanted desperately to believe her. They'd still never talked about it—not even after she pulled a gun on him during a flashback—and certainly, what she _had_ described had been hell enough. But every night he held her as she cried in her sleep, and he wondered.

“So what's Barba gonna do?” he asked instead.

Olivia collapsed onto the couch. “He's gonna go to trial.” In a small voice, she added, “I told him not to take the deal.”

“You... _want_ to go to trial?”

She looked up sharply, exhaustion etched upon her features. “I can't let him say that he raped me. I'll get kicked out of SVU, Bri. I'll lose everything.”

Brian sat down next to her, rubbing his face as he thought. “So this is about your job? Because you know Cragen would never let that happen.”

“Cragen wouldn't have a choice! The Brass already think I take our cases too personally. It's hard enough getting juries to believe our vics without handing the defense a bias accusation on a silver platter.” She tried not to think about the fact that it was going to be just as hard to get a jury to believe _her_. “Besides,” she added, “It's not just about my job. This is my life, Brian. My reputation. I know better than almost anyone the kind of stigma rape victims have to deal with, and I'm not going to let him do that to me. Not after everything he's done already.”

“Okay.” Brian knew better than to argue at this point, or to try and press for details. He was determined to prove he was in her corner, so he fell back into the role he had occupied for the last several months since her ordeal: that of champion, cheerleader, and silent partner. Emphasis on _silent_.

“I'm sorry,” she sighed, “I just... I went over all of this with Barba already and I know Lindstrom's gonna make me talk about it and I just really, really can't do this with you, too. Can we just watch something mindless and go to bed, please?”

“Yeah,” he agreed as he joined her on the couch. “Yeah, baby, we can do that.” He grabbed the remote and started scrolling through the channel guide, looking for one of those dumb singing shows he knew she'd never admit she liked. He found one and settled back on the couch; she slid up against him and he wrapped his arms around her, just like any other couple on a weekday night. By the time the show was over, she had fallen into a restless sleep against him.

He was always a little in awe of those moments when she let her guard down around him so completely. He liked to think it meant that she felt safe with him. He only hoped that she could hold onto that in the coming weeks.

 

_Stay on the streets of this town_   
_and they'll be carving you up all right._   
_You say you gotta stay hungry._   
_Hey, baby, I'm just about starving tonight._

 

She'd asked him for a minute. He gave her ten before he went looking.

He scoured the entire courthouse before finding her, sobbing, in a stairwell. He hated to admit it was a bit of a relief—she'd been so stoic through the trial that it had worried him. At least she wasn't bottling it up anymore.

“Liv?” His voice was low and soft, and when she turned to face him the devastation in her eyes nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Hey. Hey,” he soothed, scrambling down the steps to reach her. “It's okay. It's over. It's okay.”

“It's not over,” she hissed in reply, wringing her hands as he wrapped his arms around her. “He got in my head. He's still there. The jury saw it—they saw how he got to me.”

“That jury didn't see shit, Liv,” he replied, his own anger creeping in when he thought about their attempt to sanction her for daring to fight back against her captor. “They saw what Lewis wanted them to see—maybe what they wanted to see, I don't know. They were wrong about you, and I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could'a changed that. But even that jury couldn't deny that what he did to you was wrong and that he needed to be punished. They saw that, right? He's going away, and you're still here. You're gonna be okay.”

“He's going away,” she repeated, “And I still have to figure out how to live with what he did to me. I just don't know where to go from here.”

“Well,” Brian suggested practically, “Why don't we start by going home?” He planted a kiss on the side of her head before standing, and reaching back for her hand. “And we can figure the rest out from there. One step at a time, right?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, accepting his help as she rose to her feet. “You're right. Let's just go home.”

 

_You can't start a fire_   
_worrying about your little world falling apart._   
_This gun's for hire_   
_even if we're just dancing in the dark._


	4. Part III—Brilliant Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their lives return to normal, Olivia and Brian realize that there are some hurdles they can't overcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for "Amaro's One-Eighty", "Wednesday's Child", and "Downloaded Child".

_I hold you in my arms_  
_as the band plays._  
_What are those words whispered, baby,_  
_just as you turn away?_

 

“You have to go _tonight_?” Olivia tried and failed to keep the irritation out of her voice, cradling her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she pulled dinner ingredients out of the fridge. “We've been planning this all week.”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” came Brian's voice on the other end. “You know I don't have a choice. Tucker's just looking for an excuse to yank my chain.”

“Or you're just looking for an excuse not to be here,” she muttered. After a pause, she sighed and recanted. “I'm sorry, Bri, I didn't mean that.”

“Yeah, you did.” She heard him blow out a breath, and for a moment neither of them said anything. “Okay, so maybe hanging out with your friends all night isn't my idea of a good time,” he admitted.

“Brian, they're your friends, too,” she protested.

“No, Liv, they're not.”

“Where is this coming from? Look, I know Nick's not your favorite person. I get that, I do. But Cragen? Amanda? I thought you liked them.”

“I never said I didn't!”

The frustration was clear in his voice. Olivia could picture the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he squinted, trying to mentally take a step back. Even in the midst of an argument, the image prompted a surge of affection she hadn't felt for anyone else in years.

“Listen, I think we're getting a little off track here,” he said. “I'm not skipping out because I found something better to do, babe. It's the job. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Olivia leaned back against the counter, looking around at their empty apartment. She wasn't mad at him, really. She just wished he was there. She was nervous about telling her squad that she'd be sticking around as sergeant after all—worried they wouldn't be happy to see her going from a peer to an authority figure, that they wouldn't respect her as a leader, especially after what they'd seen her go through. But there was no point in telling him all that now that he already knew he couldn't be there; it would only serve to make him feel guilty. So instead she said, “It's fine.”

“No, it's not,” he countered, “But I'll make it up to you, okay? Listen, Liv, I gotta go. We'll do something soon, I promise. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be careful.”

Olivia disconnected, missing the satisfying _click_ that used to come with hanging up a phone. He'd been making a lot of those promises lately, and she knew she had, too. She knew part of it was that things were finally settling back to normal—and they'd never quite had a normal before, at least not together. Surely there were bound to be a few bumps in the road as they both got used to it.

But as she started cooking dinner alone, she began to think that some parts of normalcy were highly overrated.

 

_Well I've tried so hard, baby,_  
_but I just can't see_  
_what a woman like you_  
_is doing with me._

 

“I don't have a choice, Liv. This is my job now.”

“But Nick, Brian? Seriously? You can't believe he'd shoot an unarmed kid on purpose.”

“What I think doesn't matter! It's what I can prove, you know that.” He punctuated the sentence by slamming his hand down on the top of his nightstand. Olivia jumped and threw her hands up at the sound.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. She gestured toward their bedroom door, beyond which Nick lay sleeping on the couch. “He's right out there.”

“Yeah, and who's idea was that?” he mumbled.

“He's my partner, Brian. What was I supposed to do?”

“I don't know, maybe _not_ invite the guy I'm investigating over for a slumber party?”

“Don't be a dick.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, sinking down on the bed. “I don't like this either, you know? But my hands are tied. Tucker's really on my ass here.”

“What's his angle here, anyway?” she asked thoughtfully. “I mean, why would he want you taking the lead on investigating your girlfriend's partner? This isn't making him look good.”

“You seen the papers lately? None of this is making any of us look good,” Brian scoffed.

“So can't you talk some sense into him? Get him to put you on another case?”

“Liv, for all I know he's just waiting for me to fuck up this one. Maybe that's his angle—he wants me out.”

“Why would you think that?” Olivia sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulders. “He's the one who had you transferred into IAB.”

“I don't mean out of IAB, Liv. I mean out of the force.” Brian got up, leaving her to watch as he paced around the room. “He sent me under with the 1-2 because it was convenient, and then Cragen strong-armed him into giving me my shield back. I'm on my last chance. If I screw this up, forget the Bronx Courthouse—I'm out on my ass. No pension, no nothing. I won't be a cop anymore.”

“You don't know that's what he wants.”

“And maybe it wouldn't be so bad,” he continued as if he hadn't heard her. “You know, I just keep thinking that maybe I should've put in my papers during the rape trial like I was going to. I could be doing something else by now, and we... things would be different, you know?”

Olivia got up and intercepted his pacing, laying her hands on his chest to still him. “Baby, you didn't put your papers in last year because you love being a cop. I know you still do. Don't give up on it now.”

“Am I still a cop? Or am I just a rat now?” He cast a glance at the bedroom door. “I already know what your friends think. Do you even still want to be seen with me?”

“Why would you even say that?” Olivia recoiled, pulling away from him like she'd been burned. “Brian, I love you.”

“That's not what I asked, Liv.”

“Well, what you asked is ridiculous.”

“If you say so.”

Olivia sighed, running a hand through her hair. She could see he wasn't going to let this go, so she reached for him again, pulling him close. “I do say so. I love you,” she repeated, punctuating each word with a kiss to his jawline. “You're a good cop and a good man, and you've done more for me than I can ever say. Of course I want to be seen with you.” She moved on to kissing his mouth before adding, “We just have to be at the same place at the same time for more than five minutes first.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “We'll work on that.”

 

_Now look at me, baby,_  
_struggling to do everything right_  
_and then it all falls apart_  
_oh, when out go the lights._

 

The old man had finally lost his mind.

She couldn't blame him, almost. Years of dealing with her and Stabler, and then just her, and God knows who before them—she'd heard stories about Logan and Briscoe that almost made her feel like a saint—and well, anyone would crack eventually.

But to name _her_ as his successor? Olivia was certain that Cragen had gone completely off the deep end. Worse, no one seemed to see it except her.

“That's great, Liv,” Brian said when she came home and told him about it.

“It's crazy,” she countered, immediately heading for the wine. “I don't even know how he pulled this off—I don't have the rank to lead a unit!”

“So take the lieutenant's exam,” he suggested.

She shot him a withering look. “I've only been a sergeant for, like, five minutes,” she reminded him.

“So?” he said with a smirk. “You're a quick study.”

“This isn't funny.” She poured herself a glass of merlot and didn't bother putting the bottle away. “Brian, what if I can't do this?”

“What are you talking about? There's no one better to lead that squad than you. You know it inside and out.”

“I know it as a cop,” she replied. “Not as a commanding officer. Dealing with the Brass, the paperwork—it's a whole different world.”

“Okay,” he said, “So what's the alternative? You want some newbie taking over Cragen's command? Because I remember when he was on leave and they sent Harris in; you didn't like it then and that was only temporary.”

Olivia took a sip of wine and tried to collect her thoughts. She too remembered Harris, although it seemed so distant now; back when there was nothing between her and Brian but some steam to blow off and a 13-year-old flame to reignite. She was struck by the realization that she'd been a completely different person just a year and a half ago. Of course, there were some things that would never change. She still didn't like the idea of anyone else taking Cragen's place.

“What if it's too soon?” she asked in a small voice.

He didn't need to ask her what she meant. He took her glass from her, set it down on the counter and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a light kiss to her head. “You remember what I told you when you went back, right? If it's too much, tell me. We'll figure something out. But don't sell yourself short, either. This could really be amazing for you, Liv.”

She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “I just... I've always had Cragen there to watch my back, you know? And all of a sudden, I'm realizing there was never anyone there to watch his. I'm just not sure I'm ready to be that person, not after everything that's happened.”

“You won't be,” Brian promised. “I'm here. I've got your back, always.”

But in the weeks that followed, with Nick behaving erratically and Amanda getting into trouble and Fin just trying to stay out of it all, Olivia found that she had never felt more alone.

 

_I'm just a lonely pilgrim._  
_I walk this world in wealth._  
_I want to know if it's you I don't trust_  
_'cause I damn sure don't trust myself._

 

“Morning, babe.”

Olivia hadn't heard Brian get up over the whistle of the tea kettle; she jumped as he put his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss.

He immediately pulled back. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“No, Brian, it's fine.” She wondered if he'd ever get over feeling guilty every time he so much as startled her. It was easier than wondering if she'd ever get over being startled every time he so much as looked at her when she wasn't expecting it.

“I didn't mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn't,” she assured him. “I just... have a lot on my mind.”

That was an understatement. Her entire squad was leaning on her, expecting her to lead. Her period was late, just daring her to hope once more for things she'd finally accepted that she wouldn't ever get to have. And through it all Lewis was still in her head, taunting her, reminding her that she was just one more crack away from shattering completely.

“It's work, right?” he guessed. “You want to tell me about it?”

“No,” she said, but quickly reconsidered. If her suspicions were right, he'd have to know sooner or later. “I mean, no, it's not about work. It's about... us, or me, I guess.” She blew out a breath and turned to face him. “Bri, I'm late.”

“It's not even 5 a.m. You can't duck out of every discussion by running off to work, Liv—”

“No, Brian, I'm... I think I'm pregnant.”

She watched as understanding dawned across his face, and as it was replaced just as quickly with a carefully neutral expression.

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“That's all you have to say?”

“No! I just... shit, Liv. What do you want to do?”

Olivia's shoulders sagged. This wasn't the way she'd envisioned this conversation happening. “Look, I don't even know for sure yet. It's stupid, but I guess I've been a little afraid to find out.”

Brian reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek with this thumb. “Hey, it'll be okay. If you are, well, we'll deal with it.”

“And if I'm not?”

His hand dropped as he realized what she was implying. “You want a baby? Now, Liv?”

“I know the timing's awful, but it's not like we can wait forever. Don't you want kids? You used to talk about it all the time.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Fourteen years ago. A lot's changed since then; I've changed since then.”

She shifted nervously. “So you don't want kids.”

“That's not what I'm saying,” he quickly replied, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn't bite him in the ass if it turned out she was indeed pregnant. “Honestly, it's just not something I've thought about in a very long time. It's hard to imagine bringing a kid into this world with everything we see on the job, you know? But that doesn't mean we can't do it,” he hastened to add.

“But you don't want to?” she pressed.

Brian sighed. “I don't know, Liv. I'm sorry. I wish I could give you a better answer. I just need some time to wrap my head around it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said, deflated. She tensed as Brian leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead; the future she'd spent the past few days imagining for them was vanishing before her eyes. “Look,” she told him, “I was gonna stop at the pharmacy on my way into work. We'll know one way or the other by tonight, so just... try not to freak out until then, okay?”

“I'm not freaking out.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not! Listen, I want to be here when you take the test. I'll get home early, and—”

“No, Brian.” The last thing Olivia wanted was to see the fear in his eyes if she got the result she was hoping for—or the relief if she didn't. “I, um, need to take it early in the day... something to do with hormone levels, it's more accurate that way.” She was sure she'd heard that somewhere, and anyway, it sounded plausible.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay, well will you call me when you know? We should at least talk, Liv. I want to be there for you—for us.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “Yeah, that sounds fine. But I should get ready for work if I'm gonna stop on the way.”

She maneuvered around him to get out of their small kitchen, leaving her tea untouched on the counter as she disappeared into their bedroom. At a loss for words, he simply watched her go.

When she called later that day to tell him it had been a false alarm, there was part of him that was disappointed. Not because he wanted to be a father—that ship had sailed long ago—but because he knew then that there would always be something missing between them, some unspoken gap they would dance around but never bridge. For that, he grieved what could have been.

_Now, you play the loving woman;_  
_I'll play the faithful man._  
_But just don't look too close_  
_into the palm of my hand._

 

He knew she was going to end it before she did.

Neither of them were happy, hadn't been for a while. He knew that; he wasn't the dumb kid she still mistook him for sometimes. He couldn't give her what she wanted—if she let him, he'd gladly spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it by giving her anything and everything else, but if she wanted to walk he wasn't going to stand in her way. And hell, maybe she had a point.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

Still, there was something he had to tell her one last time: “I love you.” It was something he'd wanted to tell her ever since her attack—not in the rushed, cursory way they often did, but in a way that she would hear it, that she would understand the enormity of what he felt for her. Olivia was not someone to whom other people's love came easily or often. If he could do nothing else for her, he needed to do that.

Her voice was thick as she told him she loved him too, as though they were confessing their feelings for the first time and not the last on that dark city street. He kissed her chastely on the forehead, and then she allowed him to guide her into the restaurant where they'd agreed to meet for dinner. It was as if nothing had changed, except that with every step they felt a door close just a little bit tighter.

“You should take the apartment,” he told her after the desserts came out; they'd almost gotten through the entire meal without talking about anything of substance.

“No, Bri, that's not fair to you—”

“I want you to have it. You love that place.” His tone brokered no discussion; he already had a plan. “I'll stay with my mom on Staten Island until I get things figured out. It might take me some time to get all my stuff...”

“Don't worry about it,” she told him. “You don't have to move out right away.”

He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “If we're gonna do this, Liv, let's just do it.”

She nodded as tears started to spill. “I'm sorry. I know this was my idea, I just...”

“I know,” he said with a sad smile. “Me too.”

 

_Tonight our bed is cold._  
_I'm lost in the darkness of our love._  
_God have mercy on the man_  
_who doubts what he's sure of._


	5. Epilogue—Thunder Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and Noah get a surprise visitor.

_Don't run back inside, darling,_   
_you know just what I'm here for._   
_So you're scared and you're thinking that_   
_maybe we ain't that young anymore._

 

Olivia was just packing the last of her CDs when the buzzer to her apartment went off; thinking it was her property manager with some potential new tenants, she took her time getting up and collecting Noah.

“You know you're supposed to give me 24 hours notice,” she finally said into the speaker.

But the voice that crackled through the other end belonged to someone else entirely. “Come on, Liv, you're gonna be like that?”

“Brian?” She immediately buzzed him up, then took stock of herself and the apartment. Both were in disarray. She knew intellectually that it was ridiculous to feel self-conscious about her sweatpants and messy ponytail—he'd seen her in far worse states—but this felt different. She quickly pulled her hair down and ran her fingers through it, then gently tried to detangle the strands from Noah's fists as he decided that pulling Mommy's hair looked like fun. She set him down in his walker and gathered the baby clothes that were strewn on the couch into a reasonably neat pile on his changing table. This was all the cleaning she had time for before she heard Brian's knock at the door.

“Hey,” she said as she ushered him in. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on the job.”

“Yeah, change of plans.” He coughed uncomfortably and looked around; they never did figure out how to talk about his work once he got transferred to IAB. “I like what you've done with the place,” he said by way of changing the subject.

Olivia laughed. “I'd say it isn't usually this bad, but aside from the boxes it pretty much is,” she admitted. Her son's toys were all over the living room, his picture books piled high on top of the TV stand. Ever since Noah came into her life, the place had been a constant mess. It had also been the most at home she'd ever felt. “I'm a little sorry to leave,” she said out loud.

“Yeah,” Brian said. “We had some good times here. I'm a little sorry to see you give it up. But that's why I'm here.” He pulled a key out of his pocket and held it out to her. “I thought you'd need that to give the manager. Didn't want you to catch any crap for not having both copies.”

A lump formed in her throat as she reached for the key. The last time he'd tried to give it back to her she'd asked him to hold onto it, in case... She hadn't wanted to finish that thought, but he understood. She felt safer knowing that he had it.

“So when's the big move?” he asked, drawing her attention back to the present.

“Two weeks from tomorrow.” She looked around and sighed at the mess. “I don't know how I'm going to get all of this packed up by then. We're only going up a few floors but I'm still tempted to push half this stuff out the window just so I won't have to move it.”

Brian laughed. “Well, assuming I don't catch a case that weekend how about I come over and help?”

“That's sweet, Bri, but you don't have to. I've already got Nick and Fin coming over to help, and Munch coming over to supervise them. And Cragen and Eileen are taking Noah for the day so I don't have to worry about keeping him out of trouble.”

“He must be excited, huh? Finally getting his own room?”

Olivia smiled down at her boy, who was watching Brian with curiosity. “ _I'm_ excited,” she said. “I finally get a living room again. I don't even know what's on TV after 7 anymore.”

“You're not missing much,” he assured her. “The Mets have been sucking _and_ blowing.”

“So I've heard. Fin's pissed.”

“I'll bet.” The conversation lagged again as they both looked for another reason to extend the visit. Brian finally settled on asking how the squad was doing.

“They're good,” Olivia said. “They're... you know... them. They keep me busy.”

Brian cracked a smile. “Yeah, I bet Cragen would've said the same about us back in the day.”

“He'd say the same about us now,” she corrected with a laugh. “But you know, we didn't turn out so bad.”

“No,” Brian said. His expression turned pensive as he caught her eye. “No, we didn't.”

She held his gaze just a little too long. It reminded her of the way he used to look at her—before Lewis, before Heather, before everything had gone to hell and they only had each other to help claw their way back out. It wasn't just her imagination. They'd been good together once.

“It's good seeing you like this,” he said to break the silence. When she looked down at her outfit with raised eyebrows, he laughed and clarified, “With Noah. You were meant to be a mom, Liv. I'm really glad you got that chance.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you, Bri.”

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah, well... I still think about us sometimes, you know,” he confessed. “The thing is, I wanted to be the one to give you all of this, I really did. I'm just not that guy, you know?”

“I know, Brian.” She reached out and squeezed his arm, trying to ignore how natural it still felt to touch him. “What you gave me was enough at the time—more than enough. You know that, right?”

He shrugged. “You had the right idea about us sixteen years ago,” he told her. “Maybe I should have listened to you the first time.”

Her face fell, but before she could open her mouth to argue he slid a finger under her chin, tipping her head up.

“But I'm glad I didn't.”

Olivia visibly relaxed. He took his hand away, but she kept her eyes on him.

“So am I,” she said. “Even if we weren't right for each other, I'll never regret giving it another shot.”

They lapsed back into silence again; it seemed there was nothing more to say. That is, until Brian finally pinpointed what it was that he'd been hearing in the background since he walked in. “When did you become a Springsteen fan?”

Olivia laughed. “I can't believe I almost forgot! That one's yours. I found it while I was packing and didn't want it to get mixed in with my stuff again, then Noah wanted some music while we worked, and...” She shrugged as she went to shut it off.

Bruce's gravelly vocals were cut short only to be replaced by the high-pitched wailing of an unhappy toddler. “Mama, no,” Noah whined, smacking his little palms against the plastic contraption that kept him more or less rooted to the spot. “Mine, Mama.”

“No, honey,” she said as she slipped the CD back into its case. “That's not yours, that's Brian's.”

“You know, I've got all these songs on other albums anyway,” Brian said with a laugh. “Let's let Noah hang onto this one for a while.”

“Brian, you don't have to—”

“It's okay, Liv, I want him to have it.” He knelt down on the floor in front of Noah, holding the boy's abandoned stuffed octopus out to him like a peace offering.

Noah eyed the toy suspiciously before taking it, turning it over in his hands. “Da!” he finally declared.

“That means 'Thank you,'” Olivia translated.

Brian grinned and turned his attention back to the baby. “You're welcome. A Springsteen fan _and_ you picked Liv for a mom? You've got good taste, kid.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Listen, we've gotta talk man to man. I need you to do something for me. Your mom, you know, she takes really good care of you, but she's not so great at looking out for herself sometimes. So I need you to look after her for me, okay? Keep her out of trouble. You can do that, right?”

Noah frowned and tilted his head to the side.

“Okay,” Brian laughed, “I'll take that as a yes.”

Olivia had busied herself with putting the CD back on, pretending not to hear. As the opening strains of _Thunder Road_ began to play, Brian got up, mussing Noah's hair affectionately as he rose.

“I should get going,” he announced. “But seriously, let me know if you need an extra hand for the big day. I'm the one who moved all this stuff in here,” he reminded her. “I know what a pain in the ass it's going to be to get it all back out.”

She laughed, conceding the point as she walked him to the door. “I've missed you, Brian. You know you can always just drop by, right? You don't have to move my furniture or give my kid a head start on his classic rock phase.”

“Yeah, well, I may not be dad material but the least I can do is make sure the little guy grows up with good taste.”

He worked the various locks on the door without thinking, and they both tried to ignore how intimate that gesture seemed. Soon this home they'd shared wouldn't belong to either of them anymore, but for now it felt unquestionably theirs.

“Hey, I'll see you soon, okay?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek as he headed out the door; neither of them were ever comfortable with goodbyes.

She nodded, lingering in the doorframe. “Hey, Bri?” she called. “Thanks.”

He gave her a lopsided smile and disappeared down the hallway.

 

_Well now I'm no hero, that's understood._   
_All the redemption I can offer, girl,_   
_is beneath this dirty hood._   
_With a chance to make it good somehow,_   
_hey, what else can we do now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading!


End file.
